But, baby, it's hot outside
by soundsaboutright
Summary: If Kurt's mind hadn't just gone blank for a moment, he would probably have noticed that the way Blaine is slumped easily in the chair has an air maybe a bit too casual to be all coincidental.  In the mood for some fluffy smutty something more? Be my guest
1. Overheating

Author's Note:

You needn't have read any of my other stuff to read this, but you could.

Because just like Tease was a follow up to chapter 4 of my story Made of Candy, this here is a follow up to chapter 5. Not set on the same day, though, but content-related.

You don't have to have read it, but then again, it's a prelude, and it's fun.

But well, just know the blazer was mentioned somewhere along. As in: looking hot on Blaine...;)

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Set at some point in the summer. Actually, practically happening RIGHT NOW;)

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So. In the mood for some fluffy smutty something more? Read on, be my guest.

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><p><strong>But, baby, it's hot outside...<strong>

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><p>"Blaine?" Kurt raps lightly at the door that is already ajar, then pushes it open slowly. He peeks in.<p>

"Blaine, your mom let me in, she's said I should go up, you were..."

"Be with you in a minute..." Kurt's look falls on his boyfriend seated in his chair across the room. Blaine is beaming at him across a shoulder, then turns to his laptop again, moving the mouse swiftly over the pad at his desk.

Kurt nods, rather to himself. He steps inside and takes in the view more fully. Wait, is that...

"Blaine!" Kurt laughs: " I know I said I love the blazer and I wouldn't care if you overheated, but as it is, I actually do..."

Kurt bites his lip in amusement. Blaine's wearing the blazer. It's freaking hot out today, but he put it on. For him. Kurt grins.

Something about the familiar ensemble is not quite right, though. Kurt shifts his weight. Sure, Blaine is barefoot and wearing dark jeans to it, that much he can see, but something else...

Blaine interrupts Kurt's train of thought by lifting a finger to indicate he's almost done with what keeps his eyes locked to the screen. He clicks a window closed, and some music begins to play from his speakers at moderate volume. Then he swivels around on the chair giving it a nudge with his foot:

"Oh, don't worry, I won't overheat, I ..."

Blaine doesn't finish the sentence. At least Kurt never hears him.

Because the blazer is unbuttoned, hanging down loosely to Blaine's hips on either side, and Blaine isn't wearing his usual undershirt.

_That's_ what has been missing, a voice inside Kurt provides from somewhere. The white collar at his neck sticking out. Of course.

But Kurt isn't really listening to himself as well right now.

Because Blaine is wearing nothing , freaking _nothing_ underneath the blazer.

Kurt freezes on the spot.

If his mind hadn't just gone blank for a moment, he would probably have noticed that the way Blaine is slumped easily in the chair has an air maybe a bit too casual to be all coincidental. And that Blaine is gripping the arm rest a bit tightly, despite his overall relaxed demeanour.

As it is, Kurt doesn't. Because blank is the word.

"Kurt?" Something in Blaine's eyes clouds, and his brow furrows.

Kurt doesn't know what his boyfriend must be seeing in his face, but Blaine gets up and comes towards him, and the movement has the garment fall open a bit more to the side and that actually exposes... exposes a...

"Kurt, are you alright?" Blaine's chuckle is unsure: "You looked for a moment there as if you wanted to turn on your heel and leave..."

Kurt's mouth opens, but all he is able to do is shake his head. Repeatedly. No. Leaving was never on his mind. Was it?

He doesn't find the words, yet the incessant motion of his head must be enough to reassure his boyfriend, at least a bit, because the frown is easing slowly out of Blaine's forehead. But even if soft, Blaine's laugh is still rather self-conscious, when he walks past Kurt and carefully closes the door, that Kurt has left open.

Kurt only turns at his waist following Blaine's course through the room with his eyes, since his feet seem rooted to where he stands, and he is sure his knees would give out if he risked taking a step, anyway.

Convenient as well, that from this angle Blaine doesn't see what gives Kurt already the most severe blush of embarrassment. Because right now he finds himself regretting choosing those skinny jeans he's wearing, curses them for the same quality he usually picks them for: That they leave nothing much to the imagination.

Blaine actually turns the key in the lock.

At that, a croak finally makes his way past Kurt's throat: "Blaine, your mom..." He lets it hang there, sure Blaine gets his meaning.

Because just like with Burt, there's a rule at Blaine's place, that the door stays if not open, then at least unlocked.

The smile Blaine gives Kurt in answer starts out abashed, but then gains confidence, and Kurt supposes, it's mostly for his sake and reassurance: "Well, if, and I mean _if_ she should decide to come up, I'd rather explain a locked door to her, than have her walking in on us..."

Kurt blinks, then swallows. That _does_ sound reasonable to someplace inside him.

Blaine shrugs gingerly, the blue starched fabric moving against skin. And it might be pure imagination, but Kurt thinks he can hear, _hear_ the slight rustling, sliding sound.

Blaine takes the few steps towards Kurt: "Kurt, I'm sorry, I was worried this was a little much, I just wanted..."

He walks up behind Kurt, his hand making contact with Kurt's shoulder, and a shiver runs down Kurt's spine, as Blaine moves to stroke along his back.

A soft peck is placed on Kurt's shoulder where it meets nape, through the silky cotton of Kurt's shirt. Then another one, closer to his spine.

Kurt can't follow Blaine's movement with his eyes anymore, so he closes them in a gasp against the feeling of Blaine's gentle mouth, of warm damp breath between his shoulder blades.

He knows it's a gesture of endearment meant to soothe, and in some indistinct place deep inside it actually does, and something settles.

All other parts of him, though, rather explode in a buzz of heightened sensory awareness, and Kurt thinks his skin vibrates with the rush of adrenaline and heat.

But Blaine stays oblivious to _that_ part, obviously.

"Kurt, you don't have to feel coerced into anything, really, it's just you've... we've been so bold last time, I just wanted to... " He mumbles apologetically against the neckline of Kurt's shirt, and Kurt can feel him backpedal, retreat a bit over listening to his own words. Kurt's muscles tense over a sudden irrational feeling of loss.

Blaine whispers behind him: "I didn't want to scare you..."

Kurt's lips part, taking in an uneven breath. Is that what he comes across like, scared? Blaine! Blaine, you...! His mind is shouting inside and the next moment he turns around and roughly brings his hands up to pull Blaine's face into his.

Hoping to get his meaning across. And the state of him. Oh, he's not scared.

Well, maybe somewhere deep down, a little anxious, but above all, he's just... stunned. In awe. And incredibly, and he blushes even at the thought: Turned on by that visual. By that very moment. By Blaine.

Blaine gasps into his mouth, clearly taken aback at the force behind Kurt's reaction, as Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine's neck, making their chests clash together, faintly aware and sparked, spurred on by it further, that there is only one layer of cotton between their hammering heartbeats this time.

Surging heat claims Kurt's body whole through their contact, ending in a thorough prickle all along his scalp. The strange oddness of that particular sensation makes Kurt break the kiss, a little shocked at himself at last and at how lost he got in it, how needy he must look.

He blushes three shades deeper, stumbling back a bit, leaving Blaine standing again with his hands raised where Kurt has pulled back out of their grip, that pose so achingly reminiscent of their last encounter.

"Blaine, I'm so sorry..." Kurt finds himself stammering, when he's not even sure what he's sorry for, really. But he should be, shouldn't he, ravaging his boyfriend like that?

Blaine only searches Kurt's look, trying to find their connection, declining the very idea of sorry with the movement of his head.

Kurt sees him mouthing the words: 'Don't be'... and Blaine even repeats it, but his voice never finds him. So he just resumes to, keeps on shaking his head no, not unlike Kurt before.

And maybe it's that, that situation of roles reversed, but eventually, it gets through to Kurt.

Gets a slow smile spreading on his features at all the things his boyfriend's wide dark eyes are trying to convey.

And he finds the courage again to take a step towards Blaine.

"You... you look..." Kurt's voice trails off, as his look flickers down.

Blaine brings his chin up involuntarily under Kurt's eyes, stands straighter, and takes in a trembling breath.

Kurt watches his own hand reach out, and a finger ghosts, caresses along and up the front of the dark navy fabric.

He takes in how Blaine's muscles twitch and tense next to where his fingertip brushes skin only ever so slightly. A dance, a play for his eyes only, and Kurt's heart skips a beat each in answer.

He believes Blaine might have whispered his name somewhere along, but his attention is so absorbed in that little game of exploration, that he holds his breath, suddenly startled, when a jolt runs through his boyfriend, and Blaine begins in an unsure set of moves to take off the blazer completely. Shrugs out of it, a little awkwardly, then lets it slide down his shoulders.

Kurt feels his throat go tight for a fleeting moment. Until he realizes, tardily and from someplace distant in the vast of his mind, that yes, this is exactly what he wants. A thousand times yes. He only would never have dared to ask for it in so many words.

Blaine folds the blazer in half, then turns shortly to discard it onto the nearby chair.

And now Kurt _does_ notice the slight strain in the tendons of Blaine's neck on some unconscious level. Does register that feeble voice inside piping up, suggesting that his boyfriend might need reassurance just as much as Kurt himself, right now, and here, and that his scrutiny, his uncontained gaze roaming over... over... that it might be too much, too invasive. Kurt somehow knows, knows he should say something, anything...

But all he can do is stare.

Blaine takes a long breath. For composure, Kurt assumes, projecting his own feelings. Blaine's stomach visibly lifts then constricts in the task.

Kurt's own gut is tingling. He has felt those lean muscles beneath thin layers of clothes, but never did he imagine this. This.

Well, he didn't really imagine anything, in detail, that is, entertained more of a fuzzy fantasy, if even. He didn't dare, really, if he is honest.

But this now erases anything and makes it so much better, tops any fantasy by so many degrees. Because this is real. Kurt swallows over the thought.

Those arms, not exceptionally muscular per se, but so exceptional nonetheless. Because they are his, are Blaine's, are Kurt's somehow, are here and _for him_ right now. To touch. Feel. Kiss. And suddenly that thought spurs Kurt forward in almost a jump.

He steps up to Blaine, until he thinks he can feel the heat of that body so close radiating off Blaine's skin, like a glow, an aura of presence, of warmth. He inhales. Like static, and awareness and _just there_.

Kurt leans over and lets his breath ghost along Blaine's cheek, followed by a nudge of his nose, then open lips lightly dragging down below Blaine's ear, down the side of his neck, taking up, relishing and giving back Blaine's shudder at the contact in a fluttering line of sighs and caresses.

His head comes down, mouth simply settling in a kiss onto Blaine's shoulder, breathing, swallowing the scent there.

Blaine's chest is heaving for this littlest of touches.

A sudden possessive impulse has Kurt envelop his boyfriend's form in his arms, hands coming to rest on the small of Blaine's back. And all along, fingers and forearms relish every tiny expanse where they find skin to touch instead of fabric. Skin. Exposed and bare. For him.

Kurt shakes with the feeling and the way their upper bodies brush against each other haphazardly in their loose embrace.

Throughout, Blaine's cheek has been seeking the support of the side of Kurt's head, finding a grip in the contact, rubbing against while he's kept making those soft sounds in the depth of his throat, that have Kurt's knees feel weak under him.

Now Blaine pulls back a bit to look at Kurt, and when he speaks, his voice comes out a little raw:

"Imagine..." Blaine swallows, then draws a caress across Kurt's cotton covered chest with a venturing finger, and Kurt's breath stops: "Imagine how amazing it would feel..."

He doesn't say it. But Kurt's mind completes the thought out of himself promptly. Skin on skin.

Yet Kurt's frame goes rigid despite himself: "I'm... not..."

His look drops to Blaine's collar bone so close to his face right now.

"What?" Blaine's tone is the gentlest, although the pattern he's been stroking across Kurt's chest has come to a halt, unsure again.

Yeah, what. Kurt huffs silently in faint annoyance at himself. Why does he have to feel so shy again now? Blaine said it, he was bold that last time, where has that spirit evaporated to?

This is not like last time, a voice inside reminds wisely. Last time you were both fully clothed.

Kurt closes his eyes shortly to reign in his thoughts.

He's always had a bit of an issue with taking his shirt off. Or more.

He doesn't think he's ugly, it's not that. He's okay. Mostly. He just feels so naked without a shirt on. Stripping it off doesn't come easily to him, like it does to some guys, to whom going shirtless seems to be the most natural of ideas.

For him even exposed shoulders feel bare and intimate somehow. Unguarded.

Without the cover of his fashion armour to prod and fit him into the right shape, attitude and poise.

Kurt opens his eyes again and becomes aware he's been caressing circles along Blaine's lower back. He feels Blaine's breath on his cheek, slow and measured.

At that a shiver claims then squares Kurt's shoulders, even if he thinks the movement must mostly be an inward one, not detectable on the outside. Still it makes all the difference.

This is Blaine. And somehow Kurt knows that he, Kurt, will come around in the end, wants to, has for so long now. So this hesitation is wasted, really.

"Okay."

Kurt hears his own voice, and the one syllable brims with decided agreement, but still Kurt's lashes flutter down self-consciously at the sound.

Blaine lets out a deep breath, like held too long, and that brings Kurt's eyes up again.

Meeting them, Blaine leans in to place a swift sweet kiss to his lips, never breaking their gaze, like in a gesture just to make sure Kurt's alright, really alright.

And just with that, he is. Because there's so, so much more to that little move, deeper down below.

So Kurt can't but smile, and means it with every fibre of his being, even as his vision of the room around them swims, when Blaine's hands reach out, and begin to unbutton Kurt's shirt.

One button at a time. When the last one is done, the simple act of breathing in brings Kurt's bare belly to touch the heel of Blaine's hand.

Both shiver at the contact, and look up to exchange shy smiles over it.

Then Blaine locks his eyes to Kurt's while he slips his hands underneath the collar of the shirt, sliding in and with a gentle stroke swiping it off both Kurt's shoulders. His fingers skim along Kurt's arms, then catch the shirt at Kurt's wrists, before it can fall off to the floor in silky finality.

Careful hands fold it neatly in half smoothing out the fabric, like with the blazer before, and Kurt has the time to appreciate and acknowledge that detail with a twitching smile, before Blaine turns and throws the shirt over the chair on top of the blazer.

Kurt fights the need to cross his arms over his chest, in those few moments when Blaine's eyes leave him. He can't help but brings up one over his front, hand clasping uselessly at his other dangling forearm.

Blaine's expression fills with all adoration and endearment once he sees, and Kurt wills his arms to hang down at his sides and his flickering eyes up to meet Blaine's.

Yes, he is trying to keep his cool, to keep his features smooth and unbothered, but Blaine is looking right through it.

This time, Blaine doesn't draw back, though, doesn't retreat. Instead he lays his palms lightly on Kurt's elbows, then caresses up, and Kurt feels goose bumps break out all over his skin.

"You are breathtakingly beautiful." It's a terse whisper filled with so much.

And some small part of Kurt even wants to snort at it. Mainly because this is so very like Blaine, to be able to pull of words big like these, corny yet so sincere in his intentions.

But the awe in Blaine's voice reliably drowns out everything else, stops that impulse in its very tracks, and has Kurt's throat feeling tight for a moment instead. He swallows the lump and lowers his eyes.

Looking down their bodies, he registers, how by now his flush reaches down his neck, across collarbones into his chest, scattered in sharply defined patches of red, stretching out below the occasional freckle.

Kurt sighs. He knows in the right angle of light, his veins sometimes almost appear to shine through his skin, mapping out his pulse, leading into nipples, pale, so unlike Blaine's. Kurt blushes even harder, as he catches himself comparing, marvelling at Blaine rather.

But the look of rapture he is sure he is wearing, is found just as surely mirrored in Blaine's face, and Kurt really shouldn't be surprised after all they've done and been through. But it still makes him gasp.

Blaine gently kneads at Kurt's hips, breathing soft kisses and repeated whispers of admiration and affection to his collar bone, sending jolts of pleasure along Kurt's skin with the lightest of touches.

And Kurt doesn't know how Blaine even did it, but suddenly he feels the edge of the bed on the back of his calves.

Before his mind can ever catch up, his body complies immediately, readily, sits down, then scoots up further to lay down with Blaine's guarding hand at the back of his head, the other one coaxing them into a comfortable position in the middle of the bed, in the most natural of movements.

Blaine is over him almost at the same time already, so that when Kurt's back meets the cool of the covers, it's just then, that Blaine brings his body down for a kiss, and hot, sensitive skin is covered by skin, their naked chests finally coming together in time with their lips.

And Kurt's mind shatters into countless little pieces.

Both moan into the other's mouth, as Blaine keeps rubbing up Kurt's body in one languid gliding motion, sinking into their kiss, pressing together in an incessant movement of further down against Kurt, further still, so that it drives Kurt deeper into mattress, up at the headboard, or so it feels to him, when really he actually rises up back against and into Blaine's form, both merging into each other more.

Kurt thinks for a moment he will come from that contact, that kiss alone. That kiss that is one of their entire bodies.

He makes a strangled sound, as Blaine's hips settle last in the motion, and the edges of his sight seem to darken around a vision that is already hopelessly blurred from the sheer overload of sensations.

Tardily it enters Kurt's awareness, how the heavy fabric of their jeans feels suddenly rough between them. Next to and compared to the impossible softness of smooth skin on skin.

He grumbles an indistinct complaint against Blaine's cheek, breaking their kiss to regain some breath, but still doesn't stop his hips from bucking up against Blaine's in their relentless grinding roll.

A jolt runs through Blaine, and he suddenly moves to untangle himself a little from Kurt's vicelike embrace, uttering the most reluctant set of sounds while doing so.

He props himself up on his elbow, leaning a bit to the side, swallowing and needing a second go before his voice obeys him enough to be coherent: "Kurt..." Blaine waits until Kurt's eyes seem to focus a bit out of their haze, only to swallow again, pressing his own eyes shut, at Kurt's hands mindlessly clutching at his hip, hooking fingers to belt loops, trying to pull him in closer again:

"Kurt, please, don't you want to..." Blaine bites his lip and with a groan reaches down to his own jeans, grabbing a crease of fabric on his upper thigh, and drags, stretching it down a bit to release some of the pressure of the material's too tight fit over his groin. Then his look flickers back to Kurt, half-bashful, half-asking, as if checking if he got his meaning across.

Kurt's body has gone still, eyes wider by the second, as emotions and notions of what it is that he actually wants - and what he doesn't and what he shouldn't want, and what would be appropriate - all swamp him at this unexpected visual and question.

Kurt's mouth drops open then shuts again, and Blaine already makes a low and needy sound, that lets Kurt know that he misses the feel of Kurt's body against his just as much as Kurt indicated a moment ago.

Kurt's mind blanks at that noise, forgetting the question even, and then Blaine seems to lose patience, and some surprised part inside Kurt marvels at that, the stark fact of Blaine losing patience, but all other parts of him unite in shouts of agreement, consent and yes, when Blaine leans down again.

Kurt is so ready to revel in the expectation of more of that dizzying rub of chest against chest, lips against lips, that he never sees coming where Blaine's hand between them reaches next, accompanied by a throaty whisper: "Here, just let me..."

Kurt hears the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and the fraction of a second later, arches of the bed at the electric shock of Blaine's hand, _there_.

Blaine's voice is at his cheek the next instant, soothing, even if breaking at its edges: "There, isn't that better? Kurt? More comfortable, I mean?" He's pulled his hand back immediately, and Kurt sinks down in a gasp, and his mind is reeling, tumbling, taking leaps.

Somewhere along, he has to admit it, though. It _is _better, indeed. So, so much better, really, with the harsh caging tightness of his skinny jeans gone, the softer fabric of his briefs giving, allowing space. Yes. So much better.

Kurt gingerly nods behind the hands that he has brought up to cover his face. That he keeps pressed on there, not so much out of embarrassment at Blaine's actions, but more his foolish, self-conscious jumping, his blushing, his own reaction, if he is honest.

Blaine's fingers caress over the backs of Kurt's hands. "Kurt...?" Kurt swallows once, then lets them slide off his face.

"Blaine, I..." He searches his boyfriend's eyes, tries to convey his apology, his meaning, encouragement even, all at once and pours all those battling emotions into their connection, without caring to sort through them, or hold any single one of them back. Hoping Blaine will understand, what he can't seem to fully understand himself, much less could put into words.

And somehow Blaine does. Stares. But does, seems to get something of it, must find enough there at last, to slowly smooth the worried frown out of his forehead. Enough even to bring the slow smile back.

Kurt gives a sigh of relief that breaks, turns into something more the next second, as Blaine has his hand sink down between them again, stroking careful circles and lines of light pressure across Kurt's belly, right above the waistband.

Through it all soft attentive eyes never leave Kurt's for a moment.

Kurt blinks at his boyfriend, presses his head back farther into the pillows, yet not breaking their gaze, abs and muscles tensing involuntarily at the hint of nearness of Blaine's ministrations. Kurt only registers faintly how he feels the urge to hold his stomach in, like when feeling ticklish, still all the while arching up barely noticeably into the touch for more.

And just so, something in Blaine's look sparks, darkly somehow, then shifts and Kurt can see him sucking in the inside of his lower lip.

Then Blaine's hand moves lower, this time with purpose, even if he lays his palm down only softly, fingers just making contact, tentatively, tracing the outline of Kurt beneath cotton by the mere pressure of his hand's settling weight.

Kurt lips fall apart, heat shooting to his face so abruptly that he thinks it may make his eyes water, and his hands jerk up again, rubbing erratically at his cheeks for an instant.

But when he hears Blaine whisper his name, once, twice... something inside him snaps, then gives, and he reaches out blindly, to try and pull Blaine up and on top of him, fingers clasping at nape and neck and shoulders, and anything he can get hold of, into another kiss, and yet another.

Blaine hums, moans into their lip-lock, lets himself be dragged, but not before giving a gentle squeeze to Kurt's cock throbbing beneath him, a light tug that has Kurt's vision, voice and mind fail him utterly for an oblivious second.

When he comes to again, Blaine's hand has moved to the mattress at Kurt's side to support his weight, and Kurt finds his own hands down to scratch, claw at Blaine's chest, running through that faint scattering of hair there.

Blaine's breathing heavily out through his nose, trying to arrange his knees, keep his balance in his position on top of Kurt on arms quivering with the strain and more.

Kurt presses up against him, own muscles vibrating, the sensation of hard nubs of nipples rubbing against his chest the weirdest feeling ever. The most tantalizing feeling ever. He could have never imagined anything like it.

_More_. Kurt grips at Blaine's back, bringing him down, in a longing for further, for more, closer still, when there's really no more closer to go.

Not up here, Kurt finds himself putting a yearning to thought, and in the next instant is reaching down between them, shaking, jerky hands working to return the favour, opening Blaine's fly, making fleeting contact with cotton, warm and damp with precome... and below...

Blaine's throaty moan at Kurt's ear makes Kurt's fingers go limp, and he lets them fall to the side, out of the way, when Blaine grinds down for more friction, and then it's all soft fabric and hard flesh beneath, and both shout at the sensation.

Blaine moves away slightly and Kurt feels the open zipper cut into the cotton of his briefs with a rasping sound, and never sparing a second thought brings his hands down once more between them, grabs then yanks Blaine's jeans down a bit more onto his hips.

Blaine's breath shifts and he mumbles something incoherent into Kurt's mouth as lips meet once more with hunger. But it's only when Blaine bears down again, that it does dawn on Kurt that he must have tugged down briefs along in the same motion, because what he gets to feels now, is skin, smooth and so wet and hard against his belly above the waistband of Kurt's own briefs. The contact draws a yelp from each of them, racing blindly to repeat it, and again, and once more again.

And then Kurt can't think to begin to process, how fast, _fast_ that very idea of Blaine, of Blaine's cock on him, that idea backed up and surpassed by the sheer reality of it, how very soon this, _this, just this..._ has his mind dissolving, disintegrating into nothing but that sense-dulling buzz of tension-then-release. Release. And he lets go and comes beneath Blaine with a stumbling murmur of vowels, fingers digging into his boyfriend's back.

The next thing he knows, is having Blaine's hair against his mouth, when Blaine tilts his head to sink down onto Kurt, moaning into the crook of Kurt's neck, even biting down a bit and Kurt shudders, doesn't mind any of it.

Can't right now, through the echoes of oblivion, when it's actually Blaine's cum that trickles across his stomach, the sensation of warm and wet to his tummy not in itself a new one, but then that thought, Blaine, this, this is Blaine... it changes everything, reinvents it from scratch into a wave of _all_ and just _everything_, that has Kurt trembling, gaping in its wake.

And then Blaine just lies heavy on him, for a long, expanding moment.

He tries to move away somewhere along, but Kurt holds fast to him, unwilling to part yet, pulls him against his own quivering muscles and what's inbetween them, wet and hot and smoothest skin.

Kurt can make out the very outline of Blaine, his abs, ribs, all pressing into Kurt with Blaine's weight, until he thinks it should hurt, should at least be uncomfortable, but it just isn't. So he maps it out, all of it, imprints it into his memory instinctively, mind not able to do anything else, but word- and thoughtlessly marvel in the lingering presence of touch and gravity and senses humming with after glow.

Eventually, Blaine does wiggle out of Kurt's embrace, some long moments, minutes, later.

He gets up, standing on uncertain feet, pulling up his briefs a bit gingerly, and Kurt's own arms fall onto the covers beside him at last.

When Blaine looks down at him, Kurt can see something flash across his face, together with a blush, but he can't quite make it out completely, before Blaine turns, and walks the few steps up to his desk.

Kurt feels strangely cold without Blaine's body, even with the outward temperature wafting into the room from somewhere despite the A/C.

He absently wonders what picture he must present. And if he should feel dirty, somehow, self-conscious at least, lying here as he does.

Red blush omnipresent with skin flushed from friction, covered in a layer of sweat. That dark patch of a wet mess staining his own pants, hair undoubtedly thoroughly ruined, and on top of it all, and -if he could still blush any harder, would he? Should he?- another boy's cum on his belly.

And all in broad daylight still. Kurt lets out a breath.

He should probably feel positively dirty. But he doesn't.

All that's there is just that distant feeling of wonder, amusement even, a notion of importance, of novelty, but mostly... this just feels... right. Okay somehow. _So_ okay. Like all the chemicals in his body are flowing in their right place and pace, having him feeling at home in this body and moment.

Kurt wants to smile at the thought, and with elbows bent and propped up beside him, leisurely caresses over his chest in amazement at the lingering echoes of that prickle all along his skin.

When he looks up, he meets Blaine's dark eyes, and again that expression that he can't all fathom. But when he takes the Kleenex out of Blaine's hand that he holds out to him, he thinks Blaine's hand is trembling.

Must be from the strain of supporting his weight all this time, Kurt's mind supplies from somewhere.

Kurt takes the tissue to his belly, to clean himself up, thoughts still so far gone and lost in flashbacks that he doesn't pay too much conscious attention to the task, mindlessly staring at his stomach, rubbing the Kleenex across in slow but effective swipes.

When he's done, he pushes his hand down into his own pants once to remove at least the worst of the mess, before his thoughts catch up with what he's doing. His eyes shoot up, suddenly wide at the idea that Blaine might have seen this.

He has. Blaine is staring at him, and for a moment Kurt debates if he should feel embarrassed. He crumples the Kleenex in his fist, unsure where to rest his eyes.

But then Blaine is on his knees on the mattress next to him, over him and sinking down for a kiss, that has Kurt breathless at once. Not for its force, or vehemence, but for its slow tender emphasis, and all it conveys in one simple touch.

The tissue falls to the covers, unnoticed.

When Blaine finally breaks the kiss, rolling to his side and inching close, snuggling up in the circle of Kurt's arm, his eyes are dancing.

And Kurt is content for a while with simply breathing, smiling at how his boyfriend is watching his face from so close next to him, Blaine's dreamy gaze caressing Kurt's every feature, marvelling, wandering along with gently straying fingers.

After some silent minutes a lopsided smile suddenly twitches around Blaine's mouth. Kurt catches it in the corner of his eye, drifting half-closed.

"What?" His voice already sounds like coming out of deep sleep, rasping and slow.

Blaine props his head up in his hand and the mattress bounces lightly under them with the movement. The smile has turned into a barely contained grin:

"Well, how did I do?"

How did he...? Kurt's sure his face has just fallen a little. His eyebrows shoot up:

"Are you for real?" There's laughter in his voice. And disbelief. What, does Blaine expect a performance rating, now? He'd never pegged his boyfriend for _that_ type...

Blaine's rolls his eyes and squirms a bit under Kurt's stare: "No, not now, I... I mean with my little attempt earlier, at being bold and seductive like you last time..." He searches Kurt's eyes out again, a sly glint in his own: "Did it work?"

Now Kurt's lips actually do fall open, and he allows it to happen, huffing incredulously, then gesturing indistinctly to his, their lying forms, to remind Blaine of all that's gone down and still fills the air and space between them. "Did it _work_, honestly, Blaine?"

This time it's Blaine turn to have his grin look a little smug.

He receives a pillow to his face in the next instant for it, and Kurt hears him giggle behind it.

Kurt lets it sink down again just as quickly, though, probably sooner than his boyfriend deserved it. He heaves a dramatic sigh, narrowing his eyes playfully. Generously:

"Oh, well, yeah. You are a ten. There."

Blaine beams at him. "Really?"

Kurt suppresses a giggle and shrugs in the affirmative.

Then he lifts his hand and studies his nails in a mock show of detachment.

"But then again, I am a twelve, of course."

Added dryly through a half-pout.

Blaine's mouth opens as if in protest, taking a sharp breath in... but then closes again.

Kurt struggles to keep his features straight a little bit longer, but is done for as Blaine inches closer, cooing at Kurt's ear:

"True. You are." It is half-brimming with affection, half-subdued chuckles.

Kurt throws his boyfriend a look, but Blaine just leans in and places a soft peck on Kurt's cheek. Then he simply stays there, blinking impossibly sparkling eyes at Kurt.

Kurt takes a moment to marvel silently at how they do it. Go from self-conscious to shamelessly lost to each other to goofing around sweetly like this, all in the course of an hour, when being together.

Blaine's lashes ghost along Kurt's cheek as he breathes another baiting kiss to the lobe of Kurt's ear.

Kurt smiles.

Oh, this is a losing battle.

He growls, then laughs, then turns his head and catches grinning lips with his own:

"Okay, then.

From the top."

.

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><p>Do I need a life? I don't need a life. Who needs a life. This is life.<p>

;P

Review, please. I mean it. ;)


	2. From the top

A/N: Thank you, you lovely reviewers, and to all those unsigned reviews as well, that I can't answer to directly:) Feedback is so appreciated!

Well, this now... wasn't planned, but I just had to find out what Kurt meant with 'from the top'... and complete what happened that day between them. For the sake of completeness, you see;)

This might have a slightly different flow than chapter 1, and I wasn't sure if I should post this here or as a seperate story, but since it's the same day, and starts right where chapter 1 ends...

Because Blaine's POV breaks pattern, since all of Made of Candy and its spin offs so far have been more or less from Kurt's POV. But then, why not, I wanted to explore this through Blaine's eyes as well, and really, who can blame me?

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><p><strong>From the top<strong>

(although I reserve the right to use that title for some other yet unwritten story as well, it's just too good;)...)

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><p>Blaine feels Kurt mumble, then chuckle into the kiss.<p>

The words were probably mostly meant as a joke, but when Kurt draws back to let his head settle down onto the pillows again, there's a faint flicker in his eyes, still, that speaks of possibilities.

It may be only Blaine's wishful thinking, but then again, no... it's definitely there, a flutter of lashes and a measuring stare testing the waters, searching out and comparing intentions.

Blaine is in love with that look on Kurt's face immediately.

He leans forward, stretching his neck to place a kiss to Kurt's jaw and marveling at the sensation of skin catching, as he rubs his cheek along the curve of Kurt's naked shoulder in the movement.

His head is still blissfully swimming with all that seems to linger on and along their skins, seems to reflect off the sheets, in scents, vibrations, and the wordless knowledge of 'it happened'.

It's still happening.

Blaine presses his face into the side of Kurt's neck, inhaling deeply. Loves the give of smooth skin and the resistance of strong tendons here, the pulse against his entire face. Oh, screw it, yes. He has a... thing for Kurt's neck. He wouldn't call it an obsession... but it surely comes close.

He could spend the remainder of his life there, and then die happy. Mapping out each inch of responsive spread of space to cover, spurred on by the sounds Kurt gives him, so close, not only to hear, but to feel them vibrating through Kurt's throat in their making.

That milky white throat that bruises so easily, that even a thorough kiss leaves marks on sensitive skin.

Kurt has pushed him away, reluctantly, time after time, when Blaine was getting too lost and reeling in the undertow. Kurt having the better feel for when the threshold is crossed, and it starts leaving traces. Light ones but still. Traces of friction, of suction, of teeth, that won't fade over the course of one night. Traces Kurt doesn't want, not now, not in summer, when he can't wear scarves and turtlenecks to hide them.

It's not that he'd really be that much embarrassed by them, Blaine assumes. It's a choice, rather: Kurt just never wants to be the obvious kind with things like this. Whatever that means to him, but that's how he said it.

Blaine smiles into the crook of Kurt's neck.

Yes, that's what Kurt said. He doesn't want it plain for everyone to see what they've been doing, have them read it from his skin.

They might read it from the dopey smile on my face, Blaine argued, and Kurt laughed.

But this is for us, Kurt then whispered. No one else.

And of course Blaine was, is aware, knows that Kurt knows that the others know, or think they do at least. For Kurt rolled his eyes then, saying as much.

But I like the thought of it, Kurt declared. The sound of it: Just for us.

And Blaine nodded. Smiling. Over how Kurt's fine parading the fact that he has a boyfriend, but not what they do together in the seclusion of their privacy.

And somehow it made sense then, and does now; and is just one more perfect particularity Blaine can't help but love about Kurt.

He nips, drags his mouth over Kurt's skin absently, until his lips prickle, slightly numb from the constant gentle rub.

So no blemishes on Kurt Hummel's flawless skin. Unless...

The muscle of Kurt's shoulder jerks lightly in response to the twitch of Blaine's mouth, as he places his lips just there, an idea shaping after the longest build up:

Now there's skin to explore _below_ the neckline of a shirt.

Skin usually hidden away behind and guarded by layers of dress shirts and tailored jackets. Skin no one gets to see. No one but Blaine.

The thought put to words in his mind, that sudden awareness coming from intuitive knowledge, now strangely confirmed and brought to light... Blaine's chest literally swells with it.

He grins into the contact, bringing his head up.

Never has he thought the figure of speech was so accurate. But it's just that, the notion seeming to expand against his rib cage with the beat of his heart, making his shoulders lift, breath catching in his lungs.

He props himself up on one elbow, never giving up his sprawl half-draped across Kurt's form.

He is the one to see this. The only one.

Blaine swallows, while his fingers begin to skim over skin, trailing a path to the center of Kurt's chest. He rather feels it against in his fingertips, than he actually sees the soft shimmer of hair, but it's there.

Kurt. Kurt's body. The nerve endings in Blaine's fingers hum with the sensation, enthralled by the concept Blaine's mind can't quite seem to grasp yet, even if its proof is right within reach, indeed graspable, touchable, laid out in front of him.

He's expected something like this, but it still feels surreal to more than guess, to see.

His eyes follow the caress of his hands, taking his time now, more at ease than earlier.

For all is shining in a different light now, as fingers roam skin illuminated by a late afternoon sun, their pace stripped of the fumbling urgency that was shared before, but instead brimming with a new strange sense of rightfulness, of entitlement. Yet never with any less trembling wonder below.

And, oh, yes, how Blaine adores what he sees. Can't anything else but, won't, no reason in all his understanding of this world not to.

Kurt's curves seem to flow, painted in softer contours and lines than his own. Blaine smiles to himself. Kurt's is the kind of body type that no matter how slender Kurt is or ever got, there would always be a smooth, thin layer of supple tissue on top of strong, flexible, warm muscles. And Blaine is not surprised to find he is crazy about it.

Because even with the pale sometimes almost-translucence of Kurt's skin, the delicate way he holds himself... despite it all Kurt never appears fragile, not with this powerful promise of healthy, natural strength below.

Blaine struggles to stop his smile from morphing into a grin:

Maybe it's just that quality that helps make Kurt's hugs perfect as they are.

And just at the thought, Blaine's look drops to the stretch of those broad shoulders.

Oh, yes. Kurt gives the most amazing hugs. The kind when he takes his time, mind you, not the quick greeting ones he shares with friends. They're wonderful, too, but a shadow in comparison.

Blaine can't quite put his finger on it how Kurt does it.

But those arms wrapped securely around Blaine, around his shoulders, always manage to give him a grip, hold him up, yet never suffocate. Manage to be a frame rather than a cage, somehow creating space from sheer nearness. Space to breathe, while the perfect fit of Kurt's body is molding, merging, melting into Blaine's form.

Blaine realizes that the pattern his finger's been tracing has become slightly repetitive, when a deep breath beneath brings Kurt's chest up against the flat palm of his hand.

Snapping out of his reverie, he looks up to meet Kurt's eyes, blush claiming his own cheeks and ears. Because briefly it feels like being caught. As if he forgot for a moment. That they are _both_ still here.

He didn't of course, and how could he, but for the fracture of a second that's what it felt like.

Kurt's features are smooth, though, and he is simply looking at Blaine. Waiting maybe.

And whether it's that last thought or something else, but somehow it is enough to pull Blaine under, drag him down into that place, that area of tension where he finds himself so often when being with Kurt.

He curls, bends his fingers, bringing the lightest scrape of fingernails into his exploration of skin.

And with that, a sudden engine inside him kick starts into a droning buzz, running on pure adrenaline.

Adrenaline, that he knows comes from the need, the pressure inside to make this good, make this right for Kurt, do right by him, when at the same time it just makes it so very much harder to concentrate.

Because lately it mostly seems to prepare the way for other feelings, the emotion tipping somewhere along, and nervous exitement so easily, naturally, readily becomes excitement for more. For touch. For closer, and taste and feel.

And yet it still leaves him in that state of strained exertion, everything about him vibrating with it, sensory awareness heightened, although strangely selective. And his heart racing.

The weirdest thing is that he is not even sure he wants the strain to stop. Ever. Yes, there is a dim yearning for some sort of release, relief, resolution, but at the same time he knows he craves that dizzying spiralling higher, having him strung tighter, and jumping at the tiniest touch.

For a fleeting instant a part of him wonders, if this can be healthy. Blaine swallows. His eyes must as much as radiate the abundance of manic energy that this all gives him, surely.

He looks up and sees Kurt's lips part, although he only barely hears the gasp over the rush of his own blood dulling his hearing.

His senses are playing tricks on him. Must be, when all the things his tongue thinks it can taste are any indication, all those nuances that it forefeels when he hasn't even brought down his mouth... And surely you can't taste a sound, or a colouring of skin?

Blaine sinks his forehead down against the spot below Kurt's collarbone. Can Kurt tell? Because Blaine feels like his condition must be giving off sparks, setting on fire everything it touches, falling, feeding back all along his own skin.

He presses his eyes shut briefly, lashes fluttering and brushing against Kurt as he opens them again. He never lifts his face, simply tilts his head to watch his fingers resuming their caress.

"Do you like being touched there?" Blaine's own voice sounds hoarse to him, hot breath recoiling, glancing off Kurt's flesh, hitting the hypersensitivity of Blaine's own lips while speaking. His hand gingerly circles a nipple, trying to make clearer what he means.

"I don't know... no one has..." A low laugh ripples through Kurt's chest, more amused than self-conscious. The wide round strokes give goose bumps to Kurt's skin, the sensation easily leaping over, doing the same to Blaine's.

"This... this is... interesting... strange, somehow..." Kurt's voice trails off and Blaine's thumb and index finger come together in an impulsive, yet gentle pinch.

Muscles beneath him jerk at the touch, but probably more out of surprise, Blaine assumes, judging by the chuckle that immediately fills the space between them. Still Kurt squirms a little, and Blaine mumbles 'sorry' against Kurt's side without his voice ever catching.

He bites the inside of his lip at the surge that sears his cheeks with a harsh flare of resentment at himself.

Easy, Blaine, hold back a bit, deep breath... But instead Blaine hears a growl leave his lips. God, just why does Kurt have to smell the way he does...? So very much like... Kurt... and what they did before...

Something topples over inside Blaine then. He closes his eyes, but he can't even seem to put it to words. Yet it has his hand trembling on his boyfriend's skin by the time he opens his eyes again.

"Kurt?" Blaine doesn't even know what it is he's asking. What he's wanting, needing, here. But somehow Kurt seems to sense some of it.

And he keeps talking, speaks on, lets Blaine into his head, patter meant to soothe and comfort:

"When... when you pinched, just now, it was even more strange... but, but the feeling roots deeper, somehow... I mean, the...nubs themselves have always felt strangely numb..." The words ring in Blaine's ears and he leans in and closes his lips around the right one of Kurt's nipples, pulling ever so slightly with his teeth. It gets another jump from Kurt, and another snicker: "Ow..."

A wave of heat rolls through Blaine, when Kurt's muscles contract against Blaine's hand on Kurt's stomach, Kurt tensing like to hold his tummy in over the feeling. "Now that _did_ sting,... but somehow... I feel it prickling, no, tickling down to my navel still..."

Blaine huffs, before he even knows he does. "Kurt, don't analyse it dead..." His words are a low stumble of a sigh against and around skin. His heart's not in the soft reprimand, though, because as much as Kurt's light-headed, matter-of-fact tone somehow unnerves, or rather unhinges him, he _needs_, _wants_ to hear this.

Kurt's so very loosened up by before, by the afternoon so far, and although Blaine can tell that his boyfriend's trying to find his way back to being in control, to being sexy and alluring, he's overall mostly being sweet and giggly, energies and thoughts still scattered all over the room.

And Blaine loves that mood about him, actually. But right now it only means that they are not on same page. Because Blaine is in way too deep already again.

His head is thrumming with Kurt's taste on his tongue, while Kurt resumes his ramble of genial rationalizing:

"I'm sorry, it's not _bad_, just strange somehow... I never really got what the big appeal was, I mean, touching myself... I wouldn't think to concentrate on there... my hands mostly are busy else...oomph."

A hard kiss cuts Kurt short, the frantic impulse all Blaine's mind could come up with in sort of a knee jerk reaction. The images, that Kurt's line of argumentation have evoked, still swamp him nonetheless. Blaine groans, but breaks away from Kurt's mouth just as fast, pressing wet lips to his boyfriend's chest again. He almost misses the next words over the increasing din of heat beat in his ears.

"You know, maybe it's different in the heat of the moment, in another more progressed context... because earlier, really, chest on chest, that felt amazing..." Kurt's tone is musing, still too analytic and lively, and Blaine turns a burning face and dark hazy eyes up to his boyfriend at last.

He meets bright grey-blue ones, staring back into him. And then Kurt must realize it from something about Blaine's expression, well, maybe all of it. Because with a blink something in those eyes is shifting, as Kurt finally takes in that Blaine already _is_ in a progressed context. And that they're not in sync at the moment.

A gentle smile spreads on Kurt's features, then, and changing tact, his voice is suddenly softer. He leans his head back further into pillows to look at Blaine, eyes lighting with sparks of green:

"Do _you_ like it?"

Blaine only bats his lashes at the question, distracted by those eyes, once more and like always.

And then there's suddenly movement, and Blaine can barely process how fast Kurt switches their positions, hovering over him the next instant, propped up on one elbow on his side next to Blaine.

Kurt's hands are on him just as promptly, nails lightly scratching across Blaine's chest, and Kurt's staring down, that stare alone too much, enough to have Blaine's breath hitch and his trembling frame freeze.

Then it's just one of Kurt's fingers moving in a slow spiral, drawing closer to its center. Wide watchful eyes are on Blaine, and for a moment he feels almost embarrassed by how his body squirms beneath Kurt's caress, tenses into a taut arc, pressed back into the mattress.

When the tip of Kurt's finger finally finds most sensitive flesh, Blaine's breath stops, and his lashes flutter, and oh, why does he even bother trying to keep his features smooth...?

He realises he's closed his eyes by the time he opens them again, and when his sight regains focus, it is Kurt's face that he sees. And something about his expression deepening, yet hiding behind a half-grin:

"Oh, okay, you _like_ it."

The tone of that statement strangely vexes and heats Blaine up with an emotion entirely different, to equal parts.

But he has no time to ponder his feelings, when Kurt wipes his mind blank with a swipe of his tongue, licks, laps, and breathes down on that small expanse of skin, that seems to bundle all Blaine's nerves and capacities for attention in it for now.

Then there are careful teeth, just barely nipping, holding Blaine in place with the gentlest embrace, while the tip of Kurt's tongue pushes against him.

And he can't help his hips bucking up. Thinks that Kurt might have laughed softly. Can't be sure, though, because his mind fails him briefly.

The hot wet spot that is Kurt's mouth moves on to kiss a line along the twitching muscles of his chest and Blaine is strangely torn between the fleeting feeling of loss and wanting this exploration just as much. Head tilting to the side, he brings a flushed cheek down onto the cool of the covers for comfort.

A breeze of motion then absence hits Blaine as Kurt sits up a bit for a moment. Then Kurt's hand, on the side where he's been pressed against Blaine, comes down onto Blaine's as if to soothe, uncurling Blaine's fingers out of the sheet he's been clasping between their hips, intertwining Kurt's with them instead, next to both their bodies.

And Blaine doesn't now if the stumble of his heart is due to the simple sweetness of the gesture, or if the glance he stole at Kurt through lowered lashes made it skip a beat in anticipation. Adoration. Maybe all of it.

Kurt's fingers tangled in between his renew their grip then, and Kurt brings their joined hands up, guiding the back of Blaine's hand down unto the covers a little over and to the side of Blaine's head.

Blaine holds his breath, but his acknowledgement of the movement vanishes in the deep, languid kiss Kurt accords to his lips, as all of him vanishes inside it. The small noise Kurt makes into his mouth is given back generously, and passed on in a shiver across their bodies. That. That, forever, nothing else, and Blaine will be happy.

But Kurt breaks the lock of their lips. Too soon for Blaine's liking, yet Kurt swiftly compensates by concentrating his attentions to Blaine's chest once more.

Blaine hums his agreement and so much more, when Kurt's mouth grazes his nipple once again, then traces up and beyond, Kurt's head dipping to the side, licking along tendons, where chest merges into shoulder.

Blaine's eyebrows shoot up and his knees jerk involuntarily, bend, then stretch. Partly because Kurt chooses this moment to bring down his lower body onto him, hitching a leg across Blaine's lap, followed by, oh god, those hips settling... but then even that awareness strangely pales in comparison when Kurt's probing tongue pushes onto the sensitive skin of his inner arm. Just where his bicep begins, with Kurt's chin brushing the hollow below.

Blaine's eyes close in a gasp, light and colours flashing across the insides of his lids, the sheer sensation taking his breath. And opening a direct connection to his cock, for all it seems, because all the electric shivers that chase down his skin end up nothing but adding to the growing need for contact and friction boiling up down there.

Kurt uses his teeth sliding down along the muscle to lap at Blaine's side and Blaine's lungs are suddenly empty. He clasps at Kurt's hand way too tightly, letting loose, only to dig his fingernails in again, back pressing into the sheets.

Kurt's mouth doesn't go further, then, or deeper in, be it because of Kurt's own inhibitions, or not to scare Blaine off... Even if Blaine cannot fathom what right now, or what ever could scare him off, because this... just _this_. Just _god_.

The sound he's been making changes into something still breathy but lower again, and Kurt's lips leave, as he looks up over the gasps of surprise and wonder and more leaving Blaine's throat.

"What?" Blaine blinks several times to get his sight to clear up again, when Kurt's voice reaches him. His boyfriend has turned wide eyes at him, matching his tone torn between rapt fascination and innocent question. Blaine swallows. Yet there's a glint in the depth of Kurt's eyes that suggests that his Kurt's mouth not totally by accident went... where it just went.

Blaine's expression must display his utter tardiness with wrapping his mind around it all, because Kurt's shallow breaths become a chuckle. A perfectly trimmed eyebrow cocks up at Blaine:

"Yes?" Kurt offers the syllable with an amused flicker in his eyes. Blaine's lips purse to form a word, then twitch. Is Kurt really asking if Blaine liked what he just did? Does he honestly have to? His head falls back into the pillows and he is nodding before the words blurt out:

"Oh, god, _yes_." Blaine's own voice sounds strange to him, amazement and disbelief battling in it. He can detect surprise and embarrassment over the vehemence of his answer as well, already showing below. But maybe that's simply because he knows they're there. He bites his lip.

"How... how did you know?" It's barely more than a breathless croak, but the sight of Kurt blushing at the question, so suddenly, typically, adorably, this contrast of daring and shy that is so very Kurt, has Blaine forget the shortcomings of his own grip on composure. Kurt tilts his head, only glancing at Blaine through lowered lashes:

"Someone once told me... kissing armpits can be kind of a turn on..." He shrugs then, but it's Blaine who feels suddenly at a complete loss, head still reeling in the echoes, the impact and momentum of Kurt's mouth on him. And now those words.

Questions rush in on him, but seem to bounce, glide off of the sheer reality of the fact in Kurt's statement. Of course. And why not. But... How can it be that _he_ has not known? And, wait...Who...? And how? Not to mention why...

"Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaine?" There's a jumble of limbs when Blaine sees Kurt jump at the resounding female voice, and he responds doubly in kind just for that.

A frantic glance shoots to the door on impulse, Blaine's heart leaping to his throat, and his stomach flutters with the sudden retreat of blood. But thank _god_, the door's still closed.

Blaine presses his lips together.

Well, of course it is, he locked it, didn't he? His mom's shout obviously came from downstairs.

Downstairs. Blaine repeats the words in a loop until he feels remotely in control again, trying to remember what he's expected to do now, and if he should just call back from where he is, before his mom can decide to come up check on them.

He tardily looks down his body, and how he's sitting bolted up stiffly on the bed, Kurt opposite of him, leaning back on his heels after having hurried out of Blaine's lap.

And suddenly, raising his voice like that seems somewhat stupid to him. So child-like.

So Blaine blushes some more, grumbles, and climbs off the mattress, knees shaky with the aftershock of the interruption.

He stalks to the door, a hitch in his step.

Kurt obviously has recovered enough to giggle at that.

Blaine huffs with a pointed glance back, then blows out his breath and turns the key in the lock as soundlessly as possible.

"Yes, mom?" His voice is restraint, still colouring with so many things, when he calls through a narrow gap, holding the door only slightly ajar.

His mom doesn't seem to notice, though, tone as light as possible in a shout:

"Blaine, good, I just wanted to let you know, dinner's ready so far, but Judy has just called, she needs me for some last minute adjustments... so I told her I'd be over, quickly... I'll be back in an half an hour, or so, 40 minutes tops, I promise, and then we can eat..."

The end of her announcement rises like a question. Blaine's forehead hits the cool wood of the door frame with a small thud that makes Kurt snicker again.

He takes a second to adjust and arrange the information of his mother's words in his still hazy head, rubbing his cheeks with an erratic set of moves.

Then he clears his throat, hoping his voice will not let on the agitation that is surely still written all over his face: "Of course. Yeah, sure, that sounds great."

His mom seems pleased enough:

"Okay then. This shouldn't take too long. I've made pasta salad, hope Kurt likes that, too?"

When Blaine doesn't immediately answer, raising his brows for no one to see, she simply adds: "Alright, then, I'll call for you, when I'm back."

"Yeah, Mom." A terse cough follows his words, and then he listens to the clicks of her heels echoing through the hall.

Then it's silent.

Except for the low music still playing from his speakers.

And Kurt's soft laugh behind him.

Blaine blinks his bewilderment, mind still mostly refusing to catch up with what has just gone down.

His hand finds support on the door frame, when he turns.

He meets his boyfriend's eyes across the room. Finds them smiling.

And even if the frown stays on his forehead, Blaine's shoulders relax and slump a little just for that, a deep breath leaving his lungs, as he closes the door.

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><p>Author's note: Mm, 40 minutes something, what to do with 40 minutes something... Review if you want to know;)<p>

Oh, I know, _mean,_ right? But come on, I love your feedback. And Blaine needs a minute to recover, anyway.

(And I promise I'll try and finish it faster, when you let me know if you still like the story ...)

This part here was actually written before the s3 premiere (save for 1 or 2 sentences), but somehow I wasn't really all enthusiastic about it (the text), but after having watched the episode, something funny happened, and for some reason I started _liking_ it somehow... More about why... and generally more in the next update:)


	3. 40 minutes tops

Author's note: Sorry this took so long, life and season 3 got in the way;) My brain and inspiration refused service. Not that I don't like season 3, I do, just somehow writer's block hit and my brain chose consuming over creating... Anyways, hope you enjoy:) Still Blaine's POV.

Don't forget to review:)

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><p><strong>40 minutes tops<br>**

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><p>The door closes with a click, and Blaine turns the key in the lock again, a bit of his uneasy tension receding for the feel of his wrist's and fingers' simple, mechanical act alone.<p>

He pushes himself off the smooth, polished wood.

Kurt is still smiling at him. Smiling, not grinning. And yes, it helps as well, that little nuance right now, to have Blaine's breath come easier once more with every passing second.

He rubs the back of his neck and shuffles over to the bed, letting himself fall down on it, almost bouncing off the covers with the momentum and the heavy sigh that finally breaks loose and escapes from deep within.

Kurt chuckles at the theatrical tragedy of the sound, scrambles over and straddles Blaine's hips again, the mattress under them still swaying with their movements.

"Kurt..." Blaine's tone is hesitant.

Because, sure, his heartbeat is almost down to normal again by now, but he still feels the shock of his mom interrupting them in his very bones, adrenaline ebbing away somewhat reluctantly.

In way of answer Kurt only puts his hands on Blaine's upper arms, stroking up, the nails of his thumbs scraping along the inside of Blaine's biceps. Blaine's body responds with a shudder.

Huh. Seems Kurt has a different idea how to put that surplus of adrenaline to use. Instead of wasting it, willing it down...

Kurt leans his head back, looking at Blaine, with that unfathomable measuring gaze again. He repeats the caress of his hands, letting it expand across Blaine's shoulders, then down his front, leisurely as if asking, but determined enough to be an offer.

Blaine draws in a deep breath. He just can't seem to get his boyfriend sometimes. Whenever Blaine thinks he's finally getting the knack of it...

How is it that one time Kurt blushes over sheer words and now even that almost walk-in doesn't seem to put a damper on his mood...? And how is one supposed to keep track?

Kurt's sweet smile reliably melts Blaine's mind for a moment, bedding it in that feathery fuzzy feeling, that never fails to make Blaine's features twitch with that tell-tale dopey grin.

Maybe you should just stop trying to keep track, a small voice inside pipes up. To keep control. And just trust him to know what he wants.

Blaine holds in a sigh, and his chest vibrates with it under the tips of Kurt's fingers.

Oh, yes, they talked about this. More than once.

For every once in a while, not always, but often enough, some conversation or make out session will inevitably come to the point where Blaine starts to bother his head for the both of them. And if he is honest, he knows that it is really that last part that crosses a line, not the worrying in itself, but that his sense for responsibility feels he has to make the right decision for _both_ of them.

To be fair, it has happened the other way around as well, Kurt patronizing Blaine in some form or manner. But for Blaine somehow the habit appears harder to shake.

Blaine watches Kurt's soft features above him, and how the steady flutter of his lashes paints shadows on cheeks flushed with watching, waiting for Blaine.

_I know __there will be times_, Kurt would say, _when I will blush and shy away and it, I_, we_ will be awkward. But I promise I'll never do anything that I don't want to do, or don't feel up to._ He would search Blaine's eyes then, seeking their connection. _We said we'd always be completely honest with each other. This doesn't end here, Blaine. Trust me.  
><em>

And Blaine would nod, agreeing to hold up his side of this understanding between them.

And he really means to. He does. Blaine bites the inside of his lip. To most parts of his mind this is perfectly clear.

But to those other parts, well... worrying seems to come so easily, too easily, seems so much part of his very nature, even if it leads nowhere, really, most of the time. It's just that thing he does.

Blaine looks up. Like right now.

His glance reaches Kurt's face in time to see blue-grey eyes on Blaine have turned thoughtful. Sees them quickly fill with something else, though, gentle and full of purpose, when Kurt shrugs with a grin, voice soft and knowing. Knowing too well:

"What, Blaine, forty minutes is ample time..."

The drag in Kurt's tone makes Blaine's thoughts stumble, stutter for that cast down of his lashes.

Blaine releases his lip from between his teeth.

Yes. Maybe he should just trust Kurt to do his thing and give up trying to force his own brain's structures on it all, structures and concepts of right and wrong, and too much, too fast, too soon for Kurt. For what does Blaine know so much more himself, really?

Blaine swallows against the sensation of his heartbeat heavy in his throat.

It's probably just that. Because what _does_ he know? At least worrying for Kurt keeps his mind off worrying about himself. Off wondering if he is merely projecting, most of the time. How scared and unsure he gets. How thrilled. How overwhelmed.

Blaine coughs slightly, but still his voice is rather small, and not as playful as he wants it:

"That... that attitude is kind of new..."

Kurt laughs softly, trailing his fingers once more across Blaine's chest. His velvety tone dips even lower, reasoning matter-of-factly through a half-pout: "Mm. It's called positive reinforcement. I've been bold and I got candy, so maybe that makes me wanna be bold some more..."

Blaine's eyes widen over Kurt's colouring of voice around those words, his manner of speaking, and the faintest hint of pink on Kurt's cheek from it.

Kurt chuckles at what Blaine's expression must give away, although his grin is a little lopsided, eyes amused, yet always ever so warm.

"What? I was enjoying myself..." He leans in. "Relax, Blaine, I just want to kiss you some more... I think." The very last part is added under his breath as a kind of afterthought, but an unmistakable taunt nonetheless.

And surely Blaine's mind prepares to ponder that little detail. But then Kurt bends down to press his open mouth against a spot below Blaine's collar bone, where chest meets shoulder.

And with that, Blaine's doubts and hesitations blur considerably. Yes, he's nervous. But he _wants_ this. And Kurt seems to want this. Want _him_.

The sound that escapes Blaine is something breathy between a sigh and a gasp, until Kurt's lips find his nipple again and Blaine's voice catches in the noise. And suddenly there's no muscle of restraint or thought of inhibition left in Blaine to hold him back.

And oh, god, if that's how it's going to be between them from today on, Blaine doesn't know if to be exhilarated or embarrassed. Because it must be more than obvious to Kurt by now how Blaine can be reduced to an obliging mess with a mere move of Kurt's mouth. Blaine's hands reach out blindly, palms gripping, then roaming Kurt's shoulders.

But then again, Blaine thinks tardily, in some strange fashion, it already has been that way, always. Kurt's quips, his kiss, now this... Oh, yes. Very persuasive, that mouth. And if Blaine blushes over the thought, it's only a little.

At least Kurt has the subtlety to not overstrain his new found power and alternates his attentions away to the entirety of his chest when Blaine's fingers start clamping too hard on his shoulders. Not that Kurt's tongue tracing the contours of Blaine's ribs and sides would have that much less of an effect, though.

And, oh god, he has to remember sometime to ask Kurt who to thank for that armpit advice because, just the brush of Kurt's kiss in the general vicinity there... guh, what was he trying to remember again?

Blaine's toes curl and for a light-headed moment he debates actually being surprised at how fast the state of heat and want returns at last. But then he finds he just isn't, and he dives in head first until he's pulled under completely.

Never faltering Kurt skids lower on his thighs until he lightly rests his weight on Blaine's knees, to be able to kiss down further, licking patterns along Blaine's ribcage, lips outlining abs and catching soft hairs.

Somewhere along, Blaine's fingers have found their way into Kurt's hair as well, softly intertwining with smooth strands, stroking, finding a grip. He'll probably be chastised later for ruining what is left to ruin of that perfect hairdo, even though half-heartedly and with a shy grin, Blaine imagines.

But for now, Kurt doesn't protest, even hums against Blaine's stomach, when Blaine kneads along the hairline on Kurt's nape, hands never pulling Kurt's head down, but keeping shaky company on his path across skin, everything about Blaine aching to have Kurt's wonderful mouth stay just there.

Tingling muscles in Blaine's back strain, when one of Kurt's hands starts clasping at his hip over denim, wrist brushing the still open fly of his jeans. Blaine faintly recalls pulling his briefs up earlier, but since his jeans are tight enough to hold up even with zipper and button undone, he must have neglected to fasten them up.

And now it only takes that light brush for the material to pass on the sensation, and make him acutely aware of the state of him, and Kurt's warmth hovering above, so close. And, oh, it's so different to be the one lying on his back, being on the receiving end of this kind of attention.

Blaine swallows, but the indistinct haze of nervous peaks into something almost tangible making Blaine's heart stutter, when Kurt slips even lower on his thighs, then sits up a bit, breath blown slowly out of his nose announcing what his voice seems to take two attempts to put to speech:

"Can... can I see?"

Blaine blinks, the words resounding in his mind, hanging in the sudden silence between them after a gasp that must have been his. And for a moment his brain refuses to put them together in a way that dares to decide on a sense of meaning, each syllable a single sound without a coherent connection.

"W-what?" He feels his cheeks and ears burn for all the thoughts and images he can't risk to think, that he stops in their tracks on reflex, pressing his eyes shut to keep his mind blank and black like his sight. Some still seep through, though. Blaine groans despite himself.

Just... what exactly is Kurt asking? Unsteady eyes open again and stare into Kurt's wide, waiting ones. Find them glinting with the warmest shine of ... amusement?

Blaine's breath catches. Not so much at the fact – well, yes a bit at that, too, because, really, what is _funny_ here? - but more over how what's displayed on his boyfriend's face affects him back in turn, making his stomach feel light, yet his body anchored heavily into the pillows and _that look_.

Kurt shrugs a smile that Blaine kind of registers, the echo of the vision strangely lingering when Kurt's eyes drift down next, and Blaine's follow in a reckless impulse. To see Kurt reach. Then trace one finger along Blaine's cock straining beneath and against cotton, like Blaine did it to Kurt, earlier.

Blaine bites his lip when he realizes the sound he's been making. Because, _oh_.

Kurt's caress leaves. Lets go, intuitively sure, before Blaine can want to squirm away embarrassed by the impact that this lightest of touches, so sudden, and all overwhelming, has on him.

Instead Kurt's finger moves on, grazes the waistband of Blaine's briefs. Reminding Blaine of the question, that wiped his mind.

Kurt sits back on his heels, and lifts his shoulders, letting them slump again with only a small tremble in his voice that lets Blaine know, that the words probably not come as easy and just so as Kurt wants to make them sound:

"Of course it would only be fair..." Kurt pauses, and his look is tentative, venturing, as if maybe he thinks he has to put something more into the balance, misinterpreting Blaine's stunned silence as indecision. "I mean, you could see me, too, if you'd want to..."

Okay, that. Just does it. Blaine's loose fist comes up to his face, fingers pressing against his mouth, knuckles rubbing his chin erratically.

If he desperately wanted, searched for something to say before, now, though his lips keep forming sounds, all his mind seems to consist of is the feel of his own widening stare.

The presence of the boy above him, and those _words_ lingering. Blaine's jaw sets then loosens. Because the mental image. The thought. The thought alone...

Kurt lowers his eyes, but he is smiling, the gesture shyer than his inflection, when he draws out the next words with a soft chuckle:

"I guess that means you're not averse to the thought...of me naked...?" Kurt's eyes look up for the end of this, in time to see Blaine's face fall at the sheer assumption.

Behind his forming frown, Blaine's senses are suddenly wide awake, mind working. His hand reaches out to lay itself on Kurt's forearm. Because there might be a tinge of insecurity in the way Kurt's lashes flutter now, making it more of a honest question than its tone alone would have suggested.

But then... there definitely is that spark as well in distant blue-grey depths, that... Could it be? Is Kurt... teasing him? Something clenches inside Blaine's chest. He better is, because surely Kurt cannot really think Blaine would not be over the moon to... But no, Blaine is not taking chances, not with this, with something this important.

"Kurt, you... You, you didn't honestly think... because I really... god, the thought of... the thought alone... you can't really think I wouldn't..."

His voice comes out a little hoarse and Blaine feels his inner mind set shifting with each stammered word, resurfacing from somewhere deep down under, slipping into worry, into comfort-mode so naturally, even if only gradually.

He shakes his head to clear it. Because still... oh, leave it to an overextended teenage mind to have your most deeply sown worries edged and laced with a jumbling, a jumping to and fro between being utterly confused... and freaking turned on despite it all.

Kurt seems to notice Blaine's struggle, swiftly leaning in to not lose all of the earlier mood. He laughs, jittery, self-deprecation shining in his eyes and voice, almost stumbling: "Relax, Blaine, I'm okay. I'm alright, I'm just messing with you..."

He lays his palms flat on Blaine's chest as if to enforce the appeal in his words, for both their sakes, then drags them down, till his wrists push at the open fly of Blaine's jeans again.

Blaine's thoughts once more refuse to catch up, something in his brains turning in circles seemingly for the sake of movement alone, because with every blink, he can't trace what he just thought he saw a glimpse of.

Yet slowly, and Kurt seems to wait for it, patiently, a sense of awareness gravitates toward that touch, towards Kurt's fingers stroking again along Blaine's belly, almost hooked under the waistband of Blaine's briefs, but not quite, not quite yet.

The moment the reality of that touch gets through, though, when the idea strangely settles and takes Blaine's breath, he looks up, to see Kurt's lips move and he knows Kurt has repeated the question.

And at last Blaine finds himself nodding. Exhilarated and terrified at the motion of his own head, but wide eyes not taking it back nonetheless.

He watches Kurt bite his lip, and thinks he sees his own nerves mirrored in that gesture, but then Kurt's mouth twitches into a smile.

And damp cotton is lifted over the tip of Blaine's cock, cool air hitting him. Making him feel acutely naked suddenly, but not really in a bad sense, and not unlike before, when Kurt did it without intention.

And just like earlier, Blaine can't help the sharp intake of breath, even if Kurt doesn't lay him all completely bare, but gingerly lets the soft band of his cotton briefs settle onto the underside of Blaine's cock.

Blaine tries to focus solely on his body's sensations, wordless and grounding, to not give his mind a chance to think too much, to overanalyse and panic.

Still for an awkward moment, and like out of nowhere, he doesn't know and wonders what to do with his hands, clasping at nothing on the edge of his sight, patting the covers in a repetitive motion without rhythm.

But then Kurt slips resolute fingers into the waistband on the sides of Blaine's hips, and Blaine forgets his own hands as Kurt pulls jeans and briefs down, again together and in one decided movement, the dragging friction of the fabric over most sensitive skin almost all Blaine can take.

The material of Blaine's jeans bunching, Kurt halts mid-thigh, and Blaine sees him debating if to remove the clothes all the way, but then Kurt's look flits up, gets caught and clings, and the idea seems lost.

Blaine traps his own tongue and a sound between his teeth, bites down, when something like a flash of scientific interest flickers across Kurt's face, then something else, that he can't quite name. He swallows, his mouth going dry.

Is this too much? Can we do this? Somewhere in the back of Blaine's mind but still nagging, mantra-like chants go back to repeating themselves following some blind instinct. At least Blaine's not really expecting to get to an answer by now, but he dreads to think about how vulnerable he could be feeling instead, exposed like that.

His hands grip the sheets. Because surely, he would, he should feel uncomfortable, under that gaze growing denser by the second, almost palpable on his skin. That stare, that should be invasive, but somehow... just isn't. Blaine stifles a moan. And is it supposed to be feeling like it does?

For the other end of the heated excitement that colours those high spots on his cheeks, seems to be aiming downwards, jerking and vibrating through his cock. Making it twitch and bob untouched. Making Blaine blush fervently over it and Kurt smile and bite then _lick_ his bottom lip.

And _oh god_. The uninvited idea this evokes just now.

Blaine's abs tense when inside the chant turns into a fragmented string of yes and no and yes, and too much, taking on a slight panic after all, an exerted intensity that bubbles below but yet doesn't seem to surface to his skin, his body lying immobile and bent in anticipation as before.

And then Kurt's head hovers, close, as if he's actually pondering briefly, considering, and Blaine presses down into the mattress, his body not knowing where else to go, with all those strange impulses of running, of taking the leap, when his muscles still won't really budge.

Kurt's head goes down, and when his breath brushes over, then sucks a kiss on Blaine's belly, Blaine's brain still blacks out, blowing a fuse, lungs all void of air.

Air that doesn't return for another set of breathless seconds, when Kurt's hand is suddenly on him. And now_ there_. There, unmistakably, not by accident, but safe and certain, directed by intention.

Blaine's nape presses, arcs into the pillow. And, how to even call this, it isn't really a hand job, it is much like what Blaine did before, a tentative, drawing finger again, but this time without any layer of fabric between them... and, god, was that just himself whimpering?

Kurt lifts his head, and Blaine resists the urge to open his eyes – just when did he close them again? – fights the temptation to look down, because he fears, knows, that seeing Kurt _watching_ _him_ might just send him over the edge right now.

Then Kurt's breath leaves his skin, pulling away further, the mattress moving as he's sitting up, and Blaine thinks he might just have voiced the immediate whine of 'nonono' in his head, because Kurt is chuckling softly beside him, shushing soothingly, while he aligns himself next to Blaine's body.

Blaine turns his face, seeking, needing contact so much right now, his lashes fluttering open and shut against the gentle support of Kurt's cheek there, the warmth of Kurt's breath filling him, spreading with a shudder from where it meets the side of Blaine's neck below his ear.

Then Kurt reaches down.

And now he really wraps his fingers around Blaine, surprisingly firmly so, and Blaine's heart jumps at how familiar yet deliciously different that angle is, and his mouth falls open for the sheer simple brilliancy of that position, of that idea, the brilliancy of his boyfriend, because this is fucking brilliant, Kurt is and...

"How do you usually do this...?" Kurt's words are right next to Blaine's ear, whispering across shivering skin, and Blaine can feel the muscles in Kurt's forearm work pressed along his front, before Kurt adjusts his grip, tries a twist and a turn of his wrist, watching Blaine's face for a reaction, eyes deep and curious and captivated.

Blaine blinks back at those eyes, blinks back the surge of heat making his gaze glaze over, his own hand at his side caught between them, grabbing at Kurt's hip, at anything he can get a hold of, to _get a hold_, a grip on that feeling of falling, and the lightness in his head and stomach.

He really hopes Kurt is not expecting him to talk right now in earnest... Because, guh.

How is he supposed to even ever remember what his hand on himself felt like, in the face of the reality of_...__Kurt's hand_, Kurt's soft skin and that tight circle of his fingers, that gentle breathtaking drawn out rhythm of tug and slide and motion and friction...

Well, maybe it is a bit dry, but Blaine doesn't voice it, doesn't want to, because even if he usually uses lube, this is just perfect in it's own right.

So Blaine just nods, keeps nodding, trying to get that across, some of his exhilaration, his being happy to have Kurt keep going at whatever pace Kurt chooses and sees fit.

His own fingers reach out, still, for the sake of movement, want to place themselves above Kurt's. Not to guide, no, to confirm, rather, just to be there, feel the tendons move, anchor this moment in yet another contact shared. To show how much Kurt's touch, his gesture, his initiative and courage is appreciated.

Yet Blaine's fingers curl, fall back onto the covers at the sudden awareness. That this is too good already. That anything more would be too much.

Another twist, a gasp and a final, fractured flash of thought, faint and faraway, but always just around the corner. Can he just lie here and take from Kurt, take what Kurt's giving? Is that is his job, is that how this is supposed to go? But Kurt tightens his grip, and Blaine mind blanks, and then thinking is just gone.

Because Kurt is whispering again into Blaine's ear, mumbling soothing sweet nothings, and although his words never get through to Blaine, his tone does.

And it's so tempting to simply let go and so Blaine does, and Kurt growls, fucking growls at his cheek and it's enough, too much at last.

Mindlessly Blaine looks down only to add a visual to the sensation, regrets it when that word, regret, does really not mean anything right now, and it unhinges, unravels him, Kurt stirring beside him, kissing, nipping, licking at the corner of Blaine's mouth, open and mumbling.

And all too sudden that band pulls tight inside then snaps, and head jerking back into the pillows Blaine comes across his own stomach this time, so soon after that last time. Comes across Kurt's fingers still around him, and there's that strange squishy sound and Blaine doesn't even care.

All about him is coiling, curling around the one syllable in his mind. Kurt. Fuck. _Kurt_. Okay, maybe two syllables.

Blaine huffs a rough breath that comes out half a whine, swallows, throat knotting, but doesn't take it back, can't. Won't. And then, suddenly, all is loose.

And Blaine can't do anything but to hold on to breathing. Mouth open and gasping. Breathing.

When his vision clears, it is Kurt's lopsided grin that it centers, settles on.

Blaine blinks, returns the smile out of reflex while his focus grows wider and completes the picture with Kurt's shoulders that are drawn up, still taut. Yet there is no contradiction to the flushed glow of Kurt's complexion and yes, the effortless smile radiating from his his eyes. It all comes together to create something new, and damn Kurt looks beautiful.

Blaine's look is pulled down to where Kurt's heel of hand is pressed against cotton, his hand on his still hard erection vibrating to his pinkie finger with the strain. And just with that, the notion, the strung-tight energy leaps over to Blaine so easily, that he thinks his insides hum with it.

Something in his chest hitches and Blaine's eyes shoot up again to lock with grey-green ones, dark now and shining. Kurt's so close and half above Blaine, hovering, so near next to him they're breathing onto each other's faces, and suddenly a feel of need takes Blaine whole, an overwhelming want to get Kurt even closer, impossibly closer, just further and more, get him under his very skin, swallowing Kurt's heat, his scent...

Blaine leans in and presses, rubs his face against a trembling cheek, then pulls Kurt into a slow, deep kiss, brimming, spilling over with so much promise. Hands reach, kneading at Kurt's hip, all about Blaine so eager to reciprocate, to feel at last, for real, and, _god_... see...

"Blaaaine? Kuuurt?"

Faces fall, teeth clicking together, when their kiss stumbles to a halt.

A groan gets stuck in Blaine's throat.

Wow. Just. Really, _now_?

He sinks back onto the bed and Kurt's form freezes, bent above him. Not jerking, jumbling back this time, just pressing his eyes shut, frame hardening.

"Boys, it's been a quick one..."

The breath Kurt lets out could have been a gasp or a snort, and it falls cool onto the thin layer of sweat covering Blaine's skin.

His mom's voice, still from downstairs, short of tips, topples over with almost too oblivious cheerfulness: "So, anyway, I'm back already, so if you want, we can eat now...?"

There's an awkward pause, in which they can't but stare at each other and the flushed states of both their cheeks, necks and ears, brains and bodies ever so reluctant in trying to catch up. To move.

"Boys? You comin'?" They hear heels on stairs, and now Blaine's does scramble to an upright position, so sudden Kurt has to dodge to not have their foreheads collide.

Blaine smirks apologetically, but this time doesn't think further, just shouts right from the bed, voice cracking, but loud in both their ears:

"Yeah, be down in a minute!"

His hands clasp, pat around for something without a plan, the faint feeling of nakedness surfacing too suddenly, pants still bunching at his thighs, other clothes out of reach. Kurt's growl stops him in his mindless motion, though:

"Yeah, that _might _take a minute to get down."

Blaine's look drops. Oh.

"Oh, Kurt!"

It comes out breaking at the edges with far more pity than Blaine intended, but his heart sinks at the sight of Kurt's tight grip, white fingers splayed over the fabric stretching across his thigh.

Kurt's laugh is shaky, as he waves it off: "No. It's okay. It kind of was my risk, I knew we had only half an hour, so..." He rubs his knee absently as if for distraction, taking in a deep breath.

"Kurt..." Blaine inches closer, reaches out. Not to take care of things, no - come on, no!- and he doesn't think Kurt understood it that way, but still his boyfriend wiggles away from his implied embrace with another breath of laughter: "Blaine, it's alright, really."

Kurt's eyes meet Blaine's, radiating honesty. Blaine still narrows his eyes, but Kurt is having none of it:

"Blaine. Really, stop. Don't look at me with so much pity, I got my share of wonderful experiences today, you can't argue with that. And... I wouldn't want to rush this, anyway..."

Grey-blue eyes reach out to him with a smile, and Blaine makes to nod, but something in him still catches at the choice of words. He finds himself tilting his head and voicing it again, before he can stop himself: "But...you didn't plan this, though, cutting this close?"

Kurt's brows rise, making Blaine blush and stammer, wishing he would just know when to stop talking sometimes.

"I...I mean, if you're uncomfortable naked, or with me doing this back to you, I would never expect..." It comes out of the haze of his mind, from deep down, somewhere, and Blaine frowns himself upon speaking and hearing the instant worry of his inflection.

He bites his lip. Worry, so uncalled for once more, right now, and he knows it, when he meets Kurt's eyes, and sees something soften in their depth.

Kurt's voice colours with affection, and not with the annoyance that Blaine almost expects for a second:

"Blaine, stop it, I didn't plan, ... gosh, I didn't have the vacant capacities in my mind to strategize, formulate or execute a plan over the last hour... I really..." He falters shortly and Blaine's heart skips a beat for the way Kurt casts down his eyes, as if to find the right words, then looks up to meet Blaine's gaze full on.

"I want that... with you. From you, too."

With that Kurt's lashes flutter again, but he blushes only slightly, searching out Blaine's eyes once more. And he waits another second for the truth of his words and all that he pours into their connection to sink in. Waits for Blaine to smile, a little bashfully, and nod at last, with lowered lashes.

Then Kurt's tone sobers up: "Okay, with that out of the way..." He generously rolls his eyes.

"Now tell me about your date with Rachel back then, describe what she wore."

Blaine's brows bunch. "What?" He stares blankly.

Kurt's snickers, and his mock impatient glare can't, won't disguise his amusement:

"Well, what, dummy, I need to cool off!"

He huffs, hands fanning his cheeks theatrically, and Blaine lowers his eyes to stifle a grin.

Failing utterly. He bites his bottom lip, and shakes his head to himself, laughing. He sees Kurt cock his chin at him from the corner of his eye:

"Oh and, Blaine?"

Blaine looks up. Kurt sounds like subdued laughter as well, yet he is throwing him another measured glare of attitude, his features wearing that well-rehearsed mask of annoyance:

"It might as well be helpful if you put some clothes on, thank you."

Blaine's look drops. Oh. Right.

He feels his cheeks flush deeply up to his ears.

And only then Kurt gives in and lets Blaine's broad smile be mirrored on his face.

.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

Ah, season 3, so many new bits of information (or not, really), but hints and spoilers and speculation...;) This took so long, because my mind set is trying to adapt;)!

Funny, how lately in my stories Kurt kind of takes over initiative;) But then again, it's just how it happens in my head, Kurt given a taste...;)

And maybe it's just me, but I am getting that vibe from the new s3 scenes as well, Kurt loose and confident and happy (concerning all things Klaine) and rather enjoying making _Blaine_ blush and squirm shyly (and look so young... duh, junior;)...) – and I think he can;)

So, whatever the next episodes will give us, this here - like Made of Candy – is still set over summer, so maybe with this, I kind of like to think we can witness that attitude in its making;)

So, later that night alone in his bed, after this here, I think Kurt might probably still blush quite thoroughly when overthinking his deeds and audacity of the day... Maybe more with excitement than embarrassment, though, but still...

Enough talk, hope you enjoyed, let me know.

Since this day's (intimate) encounter is over with this, this chapter completes the story, but that's not to say there won't be other stories:)


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